Tinted Eyes
by Ciella
Summary: Most of the island's inhabitants interract with each other on a surface level. Gavin- aka Mark- and his three-dimensional love struggle to stay together while staying under the radar. -ON HIATUS- until further notice.
1. Chapter 0

ASZ

12-10-08

HM: IoH

Chapter 0: Introduction to "Gavin's Island"

Rubbing his naked eyes, Elliot squinted vainly out the dark window. He turned his head, groping for his glasses on the nightstand to his right. His world flooded with clarity as the lenses neared his eyes. Fixing the rumpled bed sheets, shivering against autumn's early morning chill, he continued staring out the window. No sign of anyone yet. Carefully, so as not to wake his sister, he tiptoed from the house.

He stepped outside as he tied his apron's strings behind him. Head swerving to look behind him, he saw the door still closed. He was first! He would have the head start this morning, meaning Natalie would have to play catch-up and would have that much less time to tease him.

His chuckling fogged up his glasses as he reached for the first crate in the front yard. The crate was bluish in the early morning light, like everything else that had been dyed somewhere between moonset and sunrise. But as he bent down to pick it up, a horse and rider burst from the ranch's entrance. The horse- very green yet- shook its dark mane free of blue-light, half-rearing with a harsh and shrilly cry. Elliot fell on his backside in surprise, shielding himself with his forearms should the horse rear again.

There was a swish, followed by the thump of working boots. A thick-gloved hand grabbed Elliot's and pulled him to his feet. "Sorry 'bout that, Ell. I'm afraid LeVine here isn't quite tame yet."

The door opened and closed behind them. "Don't worry, Gavin, it's not your fault." Natalie gathered LeVine's reins so Gavin could mount. She looked flatly at Elliot. "You've only had LeVine for two seasons, while my brother's fostered his yell'wish fear his whole life."

Gavin ignored her accusation, digging into his saddle bag. He pulled up a Blue Magic Flower and extended his arm to her. "Thanks for helpin' me out, Nat. Can't get up without him boltin' if nobody holds him." She snatched up the flower and hopped off the road.

Her voice maintained much of its earlier flatness. "I told you not to give me presents!" He shrugged, almost saying, "I jus' can't help myself." He squeezed LeVine once, twice, thrice, before getting out a peach tree switch and giving that horse a good spank on his flank. LeVine cow-kicked in protest, but moved into a flying gallop as he saw the switch rise again.

Elliot stood motionless as he waited for Gavin to disappear from sight. He only half-heard Natalie's new, biting criticisms buzzing around his head. Picking up the crate, he trudged stiffly towards the beach.

That idiot boy, riding a (loud!) green stally so early in the day! He liked to show off, for sure- though Elliot admitted secretly that Gavin was a pretty good rider, maybe even better than Vaughn. But it didn't matter! That greenhorn rancher had no right to show off. Why, if his grandfather, an old "Ranch King", had only taken that plot of land, Elliot would have been riding that horse. And he'd ride it better than Gavin ten fold! (if he knew how to ride, of course.)

He dropped the crate on the far end of the dock, sighed, and shifted his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. It was time for the next crate.

--- --- ---

Rivulets of sunlight were breaking through the cloud cover when Gavin reemerged from the forest's leafy depths. LeVine cantered with effort, straining against his bit and curb chain. Gavin brought him to a complete halt before Julia. She had just come out from caring for the cows when she looked up and saw him. "Hey Jewel!" He tossed a jug of milk at her before all the words had left his mouth. She caught the jug expectantly. She broke the wax seal, shook up the jug, popped the cork, and took a sip.

He waited for her to finish the ritual. She turned her twinkling smile towards him. "Almost, Gavin, almost. I'm afraid you're not quite there yet, but you're nearing perfect faster than humanly possible, I daresay." She turned away, but he could see her stop dead as a thought hit her. "Y'want the rest? I was just taking a sip to judge it, like usual."

"Well, then take the rest as a 'thank you' gift, like usual."

She laughed softly, charmingly at his sass. "Gavin, my mother an' I got a dozen cows this season, all of 'em givin' milk. It's real sweet, but honest, I think we got enough milk for a while."

LeVine was sick of banter and was tugging at the reins. He pawed the ground, tossed his head, attempted to bite Gavin's foot. Gavin gave his nose a little shove with his toe, keeping his eyes on Julia out of respect. At a loss for words due to the embarrassment of an ill-trained horse, he pointed at the horse and then at the path. She gave a nod, he gave a wave; the moment the reins were loosened, LeVine was grinding the gravel beneath thundering hooves.

Julia took another sip of the milk, which reminded her that she had yet to care for their cows. Opening the barn door, she tried to count how many jugs of milk Gavin had given her to 'test'. Once or twice a week since, what, last fall? Over the year he had improved immensely, 'specially for a first-time owner.

She greeted the first cow, all white but for her 'black eye' and her black 'socks'. The repetitive motion of brushing was soothing and jogged her memory; ah, now she could remember it! The first time Gavin brought milk for her to try, she was so taken aback she could not speak. Bring milk to an Animal Trader! Why not bring wine to the master of the vineyard, she'd thought. It seemed so cocky of him; villagers both then and the year before had gossiped on how highly Gavin must have thought of himself, given so much prominence at so young an age.

Switching tools, the brush was tossed into its bin and the milker was tugged out. Then he'd asked her to try it, and she was floored. Right when she was going to let him have it, he said- and what were his exact words?- "Jus' let me know what you think; you would know better than I." Her mouth had hung open, uncouth, as her image of him was magically transformed.

--- --- ---

LeVine kicked, bucked, kicked, bucked, kicked, bucked, all of the maybe two-hundred feet between Julia's and Sabrina's house. Originally, Gavin had ridden bareback, but quickly gave that up. (And to think, Chen had told him this horse was tame! No wonder it was free…) Grateful now that he had bought a saddle, he shoved his heels down into the stirrups, dug his fingers under the pommel, and gathered all his reins into one hand. If he was going to approach Sabrina while Regis was home, Gavin would have to subdue LeVine first and enter as genteel-like as possible.

Vaughn had seen Gavin take off from Julia's and was even less pleased to see the same boy going towards East Town. The trader knew fellows like Gavin, what they were like. Sabrina deserved better.

Observing the horse's wild rebellion, Vaughn was genuinely surprised to see that Gavin had not been thrown. The latter was a small man of maybe five-feet-five-inches, maybe one-hundred-fifty pounds- point being, he had little to keep him on his mount. A glimmer of respect rose within, but he suppressed it. Being a good rider did not make a man a good person. Vaughn lowered the forward brim of his hat, knowing but hating that the same counted against him.

He watched Gavin punish his horse swiftly and soundly, giving the horse a moment to either show that he understood or to disobey again. LeVine submitted long enough for Gavin to dismount and tie him up before the mining family's home. As soon as the door closed behind his rider, LeVine let out a buckin'-bronc of a kick. Vaughn would have chuckled at the horse's rebellious streak had he not been so conflicted.

There was no desire within him to embarrass Sabrina, and so stopping and confronting Gavin in her presence was out of the question. But if he confronted Gavin alone- now, Vaughn was by no means superstitious, or even religious, for that matter. But Gavin was an odd fellow; he spent vast allotments of time in the jungle and forest, gathering herbs and mushrooms, visiting the natives and making offerings to the Harvest Goddess. And only the Goddess knew what about Gavin made him strange, but Vaughn did not necessarily want to find out. Besides- in case the others thought he might believe such brouhaha- Gavin was good friends with Gannon, and everyone knew that Gannon disliked Vaughn. Such was enough for most.

He had been approaching the door when it opened. Hiding in the shadows of the house's corner, he saw Gavin fork over a ruby the size of his foot. Sabrina whispered hushed exclamations of joy, hugging the red-tinted diamond to her breast. Vaughn clenched his fists to relieve the tight, twisting pain in his stomach. Damn him, great rider or no!

--- --- ---

On the way out of the jungle, the sun misted horse and rider with tropical hues of red, orange, and gold. The never-tiring mount cantered in long, loping strides as they approached the diner. Inside and out, it glowed with warmth and companionship. Gavin poked his head in the door with a, "'Ey, Lulu, guess who!"

Denny and Lanna laughed at the nickname, which made Luke cross and yet warmed him simultaneously. From over a steaming bowl of rice, he spat, "It's Luke, unless you want me callin' y'Vinny." Denny slurped at him ludicrously.

Gavin pulled the rest of his body inside, hands behind his back. "Y'know, no-body's tried that yet." He tossed a shiitake at him, which he snatched from the air without looking up. "Funnily enough, I like givin' nicknames, but don't like gettin' 'em too much. Hey Curly, are you gonna eat that?"

Denny slurped louder.

"You _sure_ you gonna eat that?"

Sluuurp! Lanna squealed in disgust, which made it Luke's turn to laugh. Gavin dragged a chair to their table so that its back faced them, and he straddled it rather than sat.

"You've been riding too much, Gav." Denny said shortly, wary of the hungry gleam in Gavin's eye.

"Huh?"  
Still sucking noodles into his mouth, Denny looked to Lanna to fill in the blanks. She pointed at the chair. "You're riding your seat!"

Chop chop chop! "The usual, up!" Luke rang the bell and then shrank away as Gavin snatched the bowl of mushroom rice immediately afterwards. He was slurping before he even sat down.

Lanna usually got a salad from the café and brought it over, because she always had to keep her "girlish figure"- which Gavin gathered meant "lack thereof". The diner was always full of the usual banter and the sounds of good food when they were there. They were always there. And so it was "their place"; technically Luke owned the diner and cooked there, but it belonged to Denny and Gavin (maybe even Lanna).

--- --- ---

Home at last, Gavin put LeVine away in the stable to untack. LeVine nipped at him as undid the girth and reached for the saddle, which sank leadenly in his arms. A sigh gusted from him; Goddess, the last thing he wanted to do right now was clean tack. He grumbled inwardly while he undid his stirrups for cleaning.

A knock came on the door; it slid open with the whoosh of a passing train. Chelsea peeked in, her red bandana a flash of light in the dim stable. "How goes it?"

At the sight of her, LeVine wriggled like a puppy. "Oh, the usual. How're my _wonderful_ chickens?"

"Ha, they're all penned up, eggs gathered an' all!" She laughed, pulling LeVine's brow band over his ears. She worked for Gavin at 250G an hour, usually from eight in the morning to six in the afternoon. It paid her rent and bought her meals with enough to save away for her own ranch.

"I jus' don't get it! How do they keep getting out of a Material Stone fence?"

"Don't scrub that saddle so hard, it'll scratch! And anyway, I think we should cover the corners- I think I saw Fried sneaking through that way."

"Coverin' corners won't do anything; I saw Nugget jump on top of Wings and then jump over the fence! Of all people, I got myself the smart birds…" Bending over to clip LeVine's martingale, Gavin winced, his hand shooting half-way to his thigh. He stopped it when he remembered that Chelsea was present.

She gave him a push, gesturing at the hale bale for him to sit. A polite moment full of "no, no, I insist" and "really, I can't let you" passed by before he submitted. Removing the remains of the bridle and chest strap, she whispered, "Still got the bruise from last season, I see?"

Gavin wasn't sure if he should laugh or play nonchalant. "Oh, well, I made a poultice of yellow and orange grass. Most of it's gone, really, it's just a bit tender…"

"Faker." She squeezed his shoulder as she left the stable. The kind note in her voice hovered weightlessly in the air, a spider's web that Gavin couldn't seem to untangle from his hair.

--- --- ---

I have to apologize for the length of this supposed "intro". If I were you, I prob'ly wouldn't have read it; intros and prologues (the latter being somehow worse) are high on my black list. They're right next to posers and hypocrites.

Anyway, thanks for reading.


	2. Fire!

12-12-08

_Gavin stood paralyzed in fear, watching the black smoke curling off of his stable. Bursts of flame singed his bangs and work clothes, forcing him to stumble back. Inside, LeVine could be heard crying furiously, rearing against the door and pawing. His dog shrieked and Gavin was afraid he had been trampled._

_Running to the supply shed, he gripped the biggest material stone he could find. He ran like like a madman he plowed into the stable door. Over and over again he battered it, perhaps thinking he could beat the fire into submission._

_The stable roof was giving. The door was starting to give between Gavin and LeVine; with one more blow, the horse took it off its hinges. The door landed on his master, but LeVine, in panic, took no notice as he raced over it. Gavin felt like the aluminum foil he had balled up yesterday after lunch. _

_In a daze of pain, he squeezed from beneath the door. The fire was out and the pile of wood was black. "DeGraw…" He swung from one side to another, like a drunk. "DeGraw! DeGraw!"_

"Yawp!" The dog stood up against his bed, leaning with his front paws. "Yawp!"

"I know, I know!" Gavin stumbled from bed. He patted DeGraw over the head, grumbling, "Though, I'm glad to have you back, bud."

DeGraw cocked his head to one side; crazy master. But once the little green bag of pet food came out, his tail started wagging madly, and he forgot everything else. Gavin stretched and yawned, looking over his shoulder at his dog. Lucky little boob, living life with no problems.

Staring dumbly at the clock, it shouted back at him "It's only 4:30-something, fool!". He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, having no one to return to. Opening the door, a barrage of chills rushed his spine, froze him in place. Stumbling against the cold, he watered his Shiitake pallets; three sets of two. He had a routine set- from the pallets, he would water his two (horse)'shoes of Eggplant and Spinach respectively before watering the four Peach and four Apple trees. All the trees stood in two rows, and each type of tree had two columns. He leaned against the biggest of these trees and sighed.

Gavin finished his chores early having started early. It was only six, and hadn't Chelsea told him she was coming late today? Yeah, noon. He threw together a steamed egg custard, and tossed it in his rucksack for a snack. All his gifts for the day went into the second-largest pocket (the largest being for the tools), which bulged when he was finished. Slinging on his rucksack, giving LeVine the most perfunctory tack-and-groom yet, Gavin took off for anywhere to leave this lonely place behind.

Without guidance, Levine veered instinctually towards the forest. Gavin let him have his head. He noted absently as they passed Taro's that he had forgotten to give Natalie her flower. The bridge spring up before them, a portal to a quite, unquestioning place.

Whump! Came his ungraceful dismount. He led LeVine to the Harvest Goddess's pond, where the horse could graze safely. Gavin plopped down on his knees before the crystalline waters. But halfway through his usual ritual of prayer, some yellow played at the corner of his eye, glinting with the timely blue-light. His eyes caught sight of the Witch Princess. She stopped, cocking her chin up defiantly. "You don't see a thing!" On her arm was a heavy-looking black pot, full of a glittering red liquid something.

"I see you," He mumbled, if not just to irritate her for disrupting his peace. She ignored him, engrossed in a spell. "What're you doin' to the church? Princess...?" Her hands waved in frantic gestures, her mouth in frantic words. One palm full of the glittering liquid, she pinwheeled her arm and pitched it at the church. Immediately, flames ignited. "Princess!" Gavin dumped his rucksack of everything in it. He scooped it full of water and quickly doused the small flame.

"Damn it, Gavin!" Her red eyes burned at him, "You ruined my spell!"

"You ruined my prayers!"

"So? You were pray to _her._" She turned her back to him, arms crossed.

"The Goddess holds power over the prosper'ty of my farm, Princess. And the town! If I don't pray to her, make off'rings and the like, how can I expect to rejuvenate the island?"

She steeled herself against the softness of his voice. "So?" She said again, more coldly. "I'm the protector of this island, but I don't go around making people worship me!"

"That's true." He tugged on one of her shoulders, guiding her to turn back. "But if you're going to hurt the Goddess, hurt the Goddess, and not her worshippers. Alisa and Nathan would have burned to death if you went through with this. And knowing this town, I'll have to pay to fix the door!" He smirked, and she gave a little cackle.

He shook out his rucksack, trying to dry it out. The Princess recognized his tools and the gathered flowers- ooh, a Red Magic! (Dare she take it?)- but there were also various containers of things she didn't recognize. She opened one, and sniffing it, made a face. He chuckled at her. "What, you don't like yogurt?"

"Who could possibly like this stuff?" She poked it, which made him squirm. "What?"

"That was a present..."

Her red eyes checked his face and the 'present' before they fell under blonde lashes. Her cold voice returned, "Oh." She replaced the lid and shoved the container back at him, into his chest. "Take it back."

Getting up to leave, her wavy hair fell into her face. Brushing it away only revealed his despairing face. He wouldn't say anything, he just looked at her with that disgusting, pitiful, saddening look. "What?" She spat, feeling like she had heard or said the word a thousand times that day. Gavin looked down, still gripping the rucksack.

"Can't you stick around for a while?" He gathered up the tools so he wouldn't have to look her in the face. He hoped she couldn't tell, but he felt an unbelievable wave of relief was she sat next to him on her heels.

Fumbling with the other containers, she stacked them for him, setting them neatly inside his rucksack. "Maybe it's because I've lived for 100,000 years without people that I don't know what to say right now." She said it flatly, as she put away the last container. "Maybe that's why I never know what to say to people, or what to do." He scooted over to sit next to her, thigh-to-thigh.

"Hey, I've lived _with_ people for 20 years and I _never_ know what to say." Catching up her eyes for a moment, he elbowed her. "So're you too busy being antisocial to walk with me?"

A cackle burst from her pink lips, "You're as bad at picking up girls as I am apologizing!" Turning quickly towards him, she pushed him over into the lake and ran away.

--- --- ---

Notice how much shorter this one was? See, I pity you all after all.

Oh! A note: When showing this to a friend, she thought the characters were speaking in a Southern accent. I was actually aiming more for the rapid, mumbling speech of the middle-Atlantic states that floats around me night and day. If southern works for you, keep it that way; as a reader, this is yours to enjoy. But fill me in: who else thought this was supposed to be Southern?


	3. Fightin' Words

12/18/08 start date

Dear reader: Pay attention to the figure and the peach-wood! They are little Chekhov's Guns, if you know what I'm saying.

Thank you to my Beta, Rapid-chan, whom with his friend, Peach, has endless patience.

--- --- ---

_"Another early morning, another morning earlier than usual."_ By the Goddess, did he ever hate his dog like he did right then. The chores got finished early; by ten that morning he found himself whittling a branch on a bench outside of Taro's.

As much as he would have liked to go inside, he knew he had to wait. Natalie was prodding, prodding, prodding Elliot like the electric kind used on cattle. There was no way Elliot could just sit down and take this. "_Ouch," _he thought, visibly wincing, "_Natalie knows some bleedin' good words. Glad I'm on this side of the door." _

Elliot raised his voice in weak retaliation. They continued to volley back and forth, Natalie's voice like a cannon overrunning a cap gun. A shushing noise came from behind them, wondrous that such a slight sound could make it through the verbal warfare. Elliot stammered with something he wanted to say; he must have come up with something good.

Suddenly there was a _FWACK_ and Gavin knew she had socked him for it. Before his curiosity had a chance to ache, there was the sound of glass breaking. The door next to him swung open fast enough to bash in someone's head if he were stupid enough to stand on the wrong side. Felicia hurried away at a flustered walk, her face hidden in a dishtowel.

Gavin got up to shut the door; he would come back later. Natalie, already standing in the doorway, flushed red upon seeing him. Immediately she clutched her arm and averted her eyes. "D'you wanna come in, or are you gonna stand there all day?"

His lips flopped around for an answer; she had asked him a loaded question.

"I…uh, thank you." He said, steppping inside gingerly for fear the atmosphere might combust upon contact. Elliot was stooped over near the kitchenette. The dustpan scraped against the floor as he swept up the remains of a broken plate. Natalie shut the door and Gavin offered Elliot help. He pretended not to see the shiner.

"Don't worry about it, I've got it Gavin. Really, thank you. I've, _I've got it, Gavin._" Gavin checked Elliot's face noticing just how glaringly sharp it was. Had he ever seen Elliot like that before? He stumbled up and back, dumbly.

The silence felt like the most humid day ever experienced. The air, which felt thick and heavy, only made Gavin feel that much slower. Dish fragments tinkled off the dustpan. Natalie demanded of Gavin, "So, what did you hear?"

"What, me?" He wore a cheap mask of confusion.

"Just spit it out- what did you hear?" She repeated herself with a tone of fierce persistence. But he took too long to answer her- "Goddess, you're a horrid liar!"

Elliot nudged Gavin in a friendly way, trying to smile at him. Gavin couldn't see his smiling; he could only see the glaringly sharp face beneath. The former boy offered, "You must have been outside for a while, let me get you some tea."

"N-no, thanks." Gavin strode from the room, feeling like his boots and gloves were too big and his work-pants too small. The door lingered opened- he longed to slam it- and so he closed it enough so the two siblings couldn't see him. Then he ran.

_"Running… where?"_ His mind whispered breathlessly while he sprinted. "_…forest…" _He craved its solitude.

_WHAM_. He stumbled back, cradling his forehead. He looked up at Gannon. Completely unaffected, the "mountain of a man" merely stood there like stone.

"Gavin?" He grunted, lending a gruff hand. "Gavin, what's the matter with yeh? Runnin' with yer head down." He snorted like an ox. A glint caught the large man's eyes- "That'cher knife, boy? And that little wooden figgur? Boy, you dumb enough to run with a blade?"

Gavin watched his boots with interest. He looked up sheepishly, afraid of what he might see on Gannon's face. The carpenter was scowling, jutted-jaw clenched, but his eyes were wide with concern. He slapped the farmer upside the head. "Fool! Come to my shop; I oughter watch you so's you don't hurt'cherself."

Gavin felt himself beaming like a child. He plucked the tool and trinket off the ground to jog after Gannon and his logging-cart. "So, Mirabelle lent you the bull after all!"

"Yep. She's gettin' 10 days of free firewood for each day I need him."

"Need any help?"

"S'much so, if you hadn't-a axted I woulda 'nlisted yeh anyways."

--- --- ---

Rubber-armed and leaden-legged, Gavin dragged himself into bed. He pushed his boots off with his toes, dumped his knapsack on the floor. His limbs tingled, but no matter how his eyes ached for sleep, none came to him.

Dangling over the side of his bed, his hand groped blindly in his knapsack. Suddenly wide-awake, he yanked his hand back out. "Damned knife!" He swore, wishing he could counter the sting inflicted upon his fingertip. He poked his head over the side, grabbing the "figgur". Really it was just a branch stripped of its bark and growths. His fingertips caressed the naked wood, nose taking in the scent of Peach-wood.

_"Where was his pencil?"_ His mind drifted lazily, hovering around a smoky vision of crimpy hair and crimson eyes. His hand, scribbling plans upon the Peach-wood, emptied his mind and bade him rest.

--- --- ---

Half-asleep, half-coherent, he mumbled to himself. "Hand… wet…? Oh… dog…" Kicking off the blankets, he struggled to rouse himself. "DeGraw, shoo!" He flung his fingers out and sat up. Where'd that dog go? There was nothing but Gavin's pencil on the floor by the bed. Wiping his hand on his pants, he kneeled down and reached under the bed. "Give."

DeGraw stopped chewing, looking surprised. "Give! I swear, you hide here ever' time you do wrong! I know you have it." In frustration, he growled out, "Give!" But DeGraw wouldn't budge. Gavin army-crawled under the bed and took hold of his collar while the dog tried to slink away. His blond head hit the bed frame on the way out from under it- oh, what a day this was gonna be! Fingers pressed into DeGraw's gums, he managed to pry open the canine jaws. The figure tumbled out. "We'll see when you sleep indoors again!" Gavin dragged him by the collar, shooing him out the door.

Damn! It was still dark. He could barely see the wet figure in his hand, but he could feel that the wood was chewed up pretty bad.

He hurriedly took care of his chores that morning. He _needed_ to get off the farm. Brie, his pregnant cow, had been so eager to eat that morning that she nearly bit off his hand. His chickens had all managed to escape, again! And above all things, his carrots had wilted for the umpteenth time!

…and now his door wouldn't close completely. _Fantastic. Fine, then, stay open. See if I care._ _"No one on this island would steal, except for maybe DeGraw-the-Klepto-dog."_ His rucksack got tossed on the table- who was he giving presents to, today? _"Pink Cat flowers: check. Blue Magic flowers: checkers. Small fish: checkerino. Yogurt:" _he smiled fondly. He'd put it on the bottom, so she wouldn't tamper with it this time.

When he was almost finished organizing his rucksack, Gavin heard the clack of boot heels. A chill ran up his spine. "Gavin, you in there?" A deep, abrasive voice could be heard through the barely-open door. Slithering in between the crack, the morning blue-light began to creep in.

"Yeah, 'm here." He cursed his throat for sounding so pre-pubescent by comparison. Pink Cats still in hand, he hurried to open the door for him.

Vaughn stood over him, ominous in his black clothing. "I gotta talk to you."

"Did something happen to the animals?"

"No." The trader leered at the farmer, standing near the table while the latter closed the door. "Are you hiding something?"

Gavin pressed his cold fingertips into his sweating palms. "My animals are in perfect health. Now you're in _my_ home; may I ask why?"

Vaughn approached him with a few smooth strides. Grabbing Gavin's wrist so quickly that the wanted to cry out, he thrust his finger accusingly at the Pink Cat bouquet. "_This_!" he rumbled, "_This is why!_"

"You can give 'em to Sabrina, if you want." Gavin said, meaning to relieve the trader's irritation. But then Vaughn growled, ripping the flowers from his hand. "You're willing to just throw her away!" His huge bear-like paws shook in his disbelieving fury. The pink petals scattered, desperate, fleeing.

Gavin took a step backward only to press his shoulder blades against the wall. "Vaughn, please. It's not just Sabrina; it's a whole bunch o' people in town that I give presents to. I don't care for 'er, really!"

The trader was all but enraged to hear such an impossible thing. "If you so much as go _near _Sabrina again…"

"I told you, it's not romantic!" Gavin stepped forward with whatever boldness he had. His chest puffed out, he dared to look Vaughn in the eyes. If he let the trader trample him…

"Not to you, it isn't!" Gavin's bravado died in the face of his passionate rebuttal. "She- she- Goddess be damned, she loves you! You don't even care, you say. You don't feel romantic, you say. But she does. And, damn it all, if you break 'er heart, I'll break you." He stormed out like a thunder cloud, eyes flashing, door slamming behind him.

Gavin sank back against the wall with a long sigh. _"Sure, close for him." _

--- --- ---

12/23/08 finish date

I hope that if you're a Vaughn-lover you won't be angry at this scene. I promise, there is a method to my madness! His meanness will be justified, anyway. But will he win Sabrina? The Harvest Goddess only knows!

Check out the next chapter, where Gavin goes from a long day's headache to a short ride's head trauma! Review!


	4. From Headache to Head Trauma

Once more, thank you to Rapid-chan for all his help and patience.

--- --- ---

Soon Chelsea was over to help him out. She went to Chen's to get some ice for his cow-bitten hand while he weeded out the Chicken pen. His hand was ugly; looking like it'd been left to soak in purple ink until it engorged itself. With her help, they managed to recapture the chickens.

"Crispy, Fried, Wings!" Gavin called out, sitting on the corner of the fence.

"Check, check, check!"

"Parm, Sweet and Sour!"

She laughed at him as he sat on a material stone, strutting like a rooster. "Check, check and check!"

"Roast, Nugget!"

She wiped a tear from her eye. "Check. Vaughn must hate you for these names."

"Aw, Vaughn hates me for a lotta things."

They jumped the stone fence, she bumped his hip. "Like what?"

"Like…" He looked her in the eyes. For a second, she wasn't sure if he was angry. "Like the fact that I grow _carrots_."

She bust out laughing. "You don't _grow_ carrots, you _kill_ carrots." She mussed up his hair to make him fuss and pushed him on the shoulder. "Go grab LeVine! Don't you gotta go run your Santa circuit?"

"You sure you wanna be alone on this madhouse today?"

She waved her hand nonchalantly. "I got it."

"_Santa circuit, my foot.__"_He tacked up LeVine, mounted, and all but flew away.

The air was crisp and the light, blinding. As the blue-light receded, the color of the sky was bleached from blueberry to bone. LeVine whipped up his head, gnashed at his bit, frisky at chill weather. Seemed like it was getting colder lately; _Maybe that's what happened to my carrots. _

Stirrups jacked up high like a jockey's, Gavin urged LeVine into a gallop. He'd gotten smart about this present-running thing. The night before he had packed everything in non-breakable containers, notes attached. He could fly from one house to another, just leaving the presents on the doorstep. The time he would save!

West Town, East Town, and the Jungle were covered. He only had Alicia and Nathan in the Forest. Had he made an offering this season?

LeVine kept pulling on the reins, yanking them out of his hands, and Gavin felt like he couldn't pull them back. They were slack. Trying to gather them up, LeVine balked at the bridge into the Forest. Gavin felt like the unseen powers of inertia were pulling him forward, pulling him against the imaginary rope he used for balance. Point being, he stayed in the saddle.

"Go! Go!" Gavin fingered his switch. "Go! What is it with you guys, today? B'tween you an' DeGraw, I could jus'…" _WOCK_!

LeVine kicked high enough that a spectator could see his hooves over the bridge's gated sides. He thrust his head way down, and Gavin had to sit so far back he felt like he was standing up. _SMACK_. No kicking! The horse bolted from the switch; he would break this rider long before this rider broke him.

A fine whiteness powdered the sunlight trickling between the barren branches. Gavin felt LeVine getting crazy, frightened of the eerie snow-mist. The trees rushed by, gray trunks cloaked in foggy white. The first left had been passed, the second had been passed- damn, that was Gavin's last stop!- and there was no telling if they would make the third. LeVine tripped in a ditch of ashen gravel, sending Gavin onto his neck.

The horse sensed his fear. Faster, faster, and faster still the ground beneath them blurred. Gavin gripped the horse's mane for dear life; his feet couldn't find the stirrups. His fear made him deaf to all things but the wind rushing by. Goddess, it was bitter cold.

Toes wiggled with effort into the stirrup. There was the other! He might have a chance now- he gathered up his reins and pulled them to the right. His left leg squeezed, his shoulders followed his leeward eyes. LeVine plowed on, his hooves clacking like boot heels up the mountain. The horse's nose was tipped to the right, two spouts of steam pouring out plus one fountain of foam. He cocked his head at Gavin, showing the whites of his eyes.

Racing towards a narrow passage, Gavin felt his body leaning back. If he could just keep his heels down, he could stick the turn, and turn the stally at the mountaintop. LeVine's body bent agilely with the turn; Gavin saw it vividly. He felt his mind slow down... it took the balls of his feet several minutes to slip from the stirrups. His back had reclined slowly enough for the back of the saddle to tap him-

Was it snowing?

-The world spun into double-time. Gavin blinked and fell asleep.

Snow surrounded the Harvest Goddess's pond. The surface was covered in slush that would be ice by morning, and by then even a mortal could walk on it. She would hide deeper into the recesses of the pond, sleeping until spring. Having just found a comfortable niche, she felt a disturbance.

Immediately at the surface, she turned her head in every which way. "What in blazes..." Her church burned before her very eyes. Her priest stood with his hands on his apprentice's shoulders, who knelt in the snow. The girl's head was bowed forward; she seemed to offer herself in place of the church. Seething, the Goddess summoned the Witch Princess to her presence immediately. The little red-eyed witch appeared in a black cloud.

"Isolde," came the deceivingly calm voice of an angry deity, "what have you done?"

The Witch Princess twirled some of her crimpy hair around her finger. "Oh, y'know."

Red coloring burned her pale cheeks, unattractive next to her green hair. "No, I don't! Explain, Isolde. Of all times to play one of your little games, this is not one of them!"

The Witch watched the mortals running to the church, not only with buckets but Gannon's logging cart filled with water. None of them looked at the two protectresses. Gannon drove the bull forward, Elliot and Natalie filled crates to douse the flames. Every other adult in town formed two water bucket lines, forming a circle of passing buckets, empty and full.

But who was missing, the Witch wondered. Ah, the Mining Family. Too rich to dirty their hands. Sabrina must have been minding Eliza and Charlie.

"Isolde!" The Goddess was furious; the Witch was so- so- so... impertinent!

"Shut your face. Aren't those some of your little imps?"

"Some of my _sprites_." She composed herself, prepared her musical voice. "My darlings?"

The three sprites hopped and squeaked through the mortal's chaos; once more, the mortals saw nothing. The three- one clad in orange, one in green, and one in yellow- rushed towards her and clasped her effervescent gown in their tiny fists. "Goddess, you must help!"

"What's the matter, darlings, tell me."

Neil, the orange-clad sprite whimpered, "Rock found Gavin!"

"He's hurt!" The yellow one- was it Earl?- started to cry. The Goddess picked him up and cradled him in her arms. Her musical voice played in a tone of urgency,

"What happened, then? Where is he?"

"Up near the mountaintop!" Rock danced from one foot to another, pointing to the mountain. "We... we tried to get the mortals to help. We thought if we could get their attention, they would see Gavin's horse."

The yellow sprite burst into tears anew. "We're sorry!"

The Goddess nearly dropped him in surprise. "It was you...? Isolde, I'm so sor- Isolde...?" But the Witch was nowhere to be seen.

Already far from the flames, the Witch glided up the mountain five feet above her tallest trees. It was getting dark; Gavin rarely traveled at night. How long had he been hurt? The imps had been trying to get the humans' attention for a while, it seemed...

A small incantation, a bit of pink powder from her pouch, a brilliant flash. Her pale skin shone, luminescent, lighting the path ahead. She was nearing the top, and still no Gavin. Perhaps she had missed him? She had to find him and soon.

She passed his panicky horse. Hovering still for a second, she zapped him with a green light. She continued onward; she would teach that bum a lesson later.

_Red!_ She descended a few feet. _Blond hair!_ "Gavin!" the happy cry erupted into a shriek. "Gavin, you idiot! If you survive this, I'll kill you!" She rummaged wildly through her little pouch, ripping from it a bunch of purple grass. Sinking her teeth into them, she tore them open and squished the inner gel over his wound. _Purple gel is a great coagulator. _One arm behind his shoulder blades, the other beneath his knees, the Witch rose to her feet. A black cloud- she was gone.

--- --- ---

12/27/08


	5. Nursing

12/28/08

At last, we get to see the Witch without being a Witch with a capital B.

--- --- ---

Black… colors… black… swirling colors…

Through his blond eyelashes, Gavin saw a big blur with long, vertical lines of yellow and two drops of crimson. Slowly did the Witch Princess come into focus? "Hur…?"

She reached out to him and pushed him back down onto the futon. "Sleep, you idiot. You owe me your life as it is."

"Owe…?"

"Taking your horse out so late by yourself." She huffed, nudging the bandages on his head aside. Her little kettle was at her ankles. Taking off the lid, she spooned up a little of the dull, periwinkle goo. It oozed from spoon to wound like honey.

Gavin tried to turn his head away, bewildered and somewhat nauseous. Just nauseous. Really nauseous… "Uhn…" He moaned, trying to push her hand and spoon away.

"What are you, a caveman?" She blinked, recognizing his pallor. Scooting up, she grabbed an empty chamber pot from one of her many shelves and tucked it under Gavin's arm. "Just in case."

Often, she had seen this silly little mortal hurrying through the forest, bustling up the mountain. But he was different in a way; when she saw him, he saw her. It had never happened before. When he saw her, he sat with her, talked with her. He brought her little things she had told him about but never expected him to recognize. For thousands of years, she realized after meeting him, she had lived with the thundering silence of emptiness. Suddenly Gavin was in her life and she could feel her heart beating.

His moaning increased in volume until she could barely hear her thoughts. She pitied him, watching him clutch the chamber pot and wretch. In her gut, she felt what she thought was her long-dead maternal instinct; her coldness melted before an urge to bring him into her arms and comfort him. She struggled within her self, holding his bangs out of the way. A little cough- he seemed to have emptied himself out. Somewhere she gave in. Her lips pecked his nose without her permission while she snatched away the chamber pot to empty and rinse outside.

Her unpleasant business done, she found him asleep when she came back in. "Damn it all, I thought he was finally awake!" She whispered to herself. It had been nice to talk (scold) him while he was conscious. At least now she didn't have to worry about how he would respond to her awkward attempt at nursing.

Raking her pale fingers through his golden bangs, which stuck out from his bandages like a rooster's plumage, she listened to the soothing rhythm of his breathing. Color was creeping back into his cheeks, pinching the tip of his nose again. She lay down parallel to him, just within an arm's reach. Tentatively, she reached across and stroked his cheek. _"So soft…"_

It was so late that it was early. Her eyes were fighting against her, refusing to stay open, refusing to stay awake. They were tired too- but she wanted to see Gavin. She didn't want to miss anything. When at last she knew she was going to lose, and she felt that her periwinkle pain-numbing potion had snuck into her heart, she saw little pools of green glimmering back at her. Her sleepy heart danced; he smiled at her, and she could sleep.

--- --- ---

The light streamed through the windows to pry Gavin's eyes open. "Huh…?" His watch screamed at him, _"Idiot! It's almost noon!"_ He would never get his chores done in time! His Santa circuit would have to be canceled! And above all- he needed a story to tell Chelsea. How would he explain being so ungodly late and being wrapped up like a mummy?

Sitting up with a start, his skull felt like it shrank to half its size, jamming bone into his brain. He lay back down immediately. "Still feel like crap, huh?" The Witch Princess smirked at him from behind her huge cauldron. With tongs, she pulled out a tiny cauldron. _Snap! _A tiny table floated from beneath the Witch's bed, stopping before Gavin. Her finger guided the cauldron to levitate right to the tiny table. "If you sit up slowly, you'll be fine. If you eat something, you'll be better."

Slowly… slowly… Okay, he was good. Cradling the bandaged side of his head, Gavin raised a finger, about to ask for a spoon.

"Oh, sorry, forgot."

_Poof! _Gavin inwardly laughed at his Chemistry teacher from way back when, who had insisted on some bull crap known as the Laws of Conservation of Mass. "Okay… so, I remember ridin' my horse. I remember seein' you. What I don't remember is ridin' to your house, or dismountin', or tyin' up my horse, or anythin'. Is my horse okay?"

Her head had been bowed over the cauldron. Feeling her face growing an angry red, she turned away from him. She used magic to pull water from the outside pump and make it flow, still hovering, through the window and into her cauldron. Always carefully, carefully letting the water hit the bottom of the cauldron before releasing it from her spell. "He's fine."

"Where is he?"

"_Who cares?" _Pointing her finger at the fire, the flames flashed from blue to white. The water boiled instantly; she lowered the flames to yellow. "Oh, he's outside, tied to my light pole."

"Oh, thanks. See, I couldn't possibly get all I need done without him-"

"But you may not recognize him." Her back was to him as she gathered several little baggies of powdered fish bones. "You see, because of him, you were hurt badly last night. He ran you into that corner on the mountain."

"How…?"

"Please! Don't be so surprised." _Splunk- _the globs of powdered fish bone floated in the boiling water before dissolving and making it pearly. "The angle of your wound, plus the angle and distance you lay from the corner, told me everything. That horse was misbehaving beyond belief. He resisted your punishment. So now I have taken it upon myself to punish him."

Gavin gulped. "Tell me you didn't kill him! I- I know he wasn't well trained or anythin', but in time-"

"He's alive, he's alive. But he's a free spirit, no? Allowed freedom on your ranch to go wherever he pleases, do whatever he pleases, all whenever he pleases. Well, no more gallivanting for him! I turned him into an ox. From now on, keep him in the stable, feed him as you feed the cows, and take him out only to work beneath the yoke."

"But I've only got a hoe; I can't use him as an ox!"

The Witch Princess mused, _"I've only got a ho'… her name is Chelsea!" _She bewitched the big glass stirrer to spin the milky, boiling mass. Her laughter bubbled out at his complaint, "You won't need your hoe for a good, long time! I've given you a plow, which you'll find in the far corner of your maker shed. And it's pretty good! Look!"

Grabbing a handheld mirror from the large table, she shoved it in his face. In the mirror he saw the plow, sitting quietly behind the Cheese Maker. "It is good! Is there a yoke?"

Chant, clap, chant- "Now there is."

And there it was, in the mirror! In surprise, Gavin choked on his soup, the spoon clanging from his hand onto the table. The Witch whacked him on the back, panicking to no end inside her head; if she had remained calm she would have thought of making the choker-piece disappear. Lucky for both of them, the whack knocked the little piece out. Gavin covered his mouth with his hand. _"This is all so goddess-be-damned embarrassing… She's going to think I'm gross!" _

Annoyed at herself for freaking out, the Witch made a cloth napkin appear. "Here."

"S- sorry…" He believed her annoyance was directed at him, and really, who could blame her? She was nice enough to take care of him and all he could do was choke? His shoulders rose up to his ears. Deep in his gut, he felt the desire to curl up and disappear.

"_I'm such a jerk. He doesn't feel good, and I'm being all PMS at him." _She kneeled down so she could be closer to him. _"What to say? What to… how to apologize, in a sense, without apologizing?" _Her chin rest against her chest. Her hand itched; noting how he ate tentatively, she wished she had the courage to rub his back or belly, soothe him somehow.

"Are… you okay?" Her voice was thick and slow and dumb-sounding.

He stopped in his tracks. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." He feigned an insatiable hunger for… goopy-greenish-brownish-chunky soup. _"It looks like vomit…" _Eating, eating- he just kept eating while he stomach kept turning. Swallowing one gulp for the second time, he managed, "Your soup is really good, y'know."

"You like it?" She clasped her hands together, her red eyes glittering. "I've made so much lizard cake, I thought- what the hell! Might as well try lizard soup!" She scooted closer to him to whisper in his hear. "The secret ingredient? Well, not all of it is lizard. It's part bat."

His gut was thoroughly confused. As much as the soup made him want to hurl, her joy calmed him. In turmoil, his stomach made some embarrassing squelching noises to answer for him.

Both of them looked down at his stomach. The Witch burst into laughter. "That was nice of you, Gavin. But you don't have to eat that."

"Thank you." He wasn't sure if he should look happy. Maybe he should pretend to be upset…?

She took the bowl in her hands, still kneeling. Her nose smushed up against his and made him look up. "That was really, really nice of you." Her head tilted so she could access his lips- Gavin vaguely remembered her pink lips, cackling in the woods…

Standing up, already reaching for a different brew, she stole her warmth away again. Gavin felt like a puppy, unable to do anything but whimper and hope that his mother would come back. Soon, she was beside him again. She brought the teacup to his lips in a tender gesture, cradling the back of his head. Always carefully, though, for fear her fingers might scrape against his wound.

The tea made him dizzy, woozy, but in a good way. Still sitting up, his head resting against her shoulder, he slurred, "I gotta get home… get my chores done…"

Her fingers raked through his bangs soothingly. "Taken care of."

"Chelsea?"

"In bed with a cold. She left you a note."

Gavin hid a smile from her. Figuring it was all right, he kissed her neck, felt her sigh. "Can I stay here a little longer?"

She bent her head down, grinning at him in her bloody crimson eyes. She kissed him at length. When they finally parted, she gasped, "Stay as long as you like."

--- --- ---

12/28/08

Let me say that I _hate _the way formatting works in story-mode documents. Maybe it's just my computer, but the alignment of my documents is always screwed up. Everything appears central even though it should be on left, and then the highlighted sections that I try to re-align carry sections that should stay put...

I don't know. I'm technologically deficient, and my computer's PMSing. Go figure.

Oh! And before I forget: Thank you, Rapid-chan!


	6. A Trip Down Under

1.11.09

Rapid-chan, thank you again for editing this chapter! You do a great job each and every time, and I am lucky to have you here to help me. And Peach, thank you for all of your support!

--- --- ---

That night, Gavin had to sneak LeVine the now-ox home in the shadows; one, everyone knew that he owned no oxen, and two, Gannon would try to buy it off him first chance he got. Gannon was tough to turn down… nobody wanted to be on his bad side.

LeVine shuffled dejectedly into the stable. The Witch had done Gavin a huge favor by magically removing the tack for him, but he couldn't go to bed before giving the now-ox one more brushing over. LeVine looked at him from one eye and turned away. Shuffling off into the corner, the now-ox knelt down like a lame old cow, completely without life.

Even with all of the Witch's teas and potions and medicinal herbs, Gavin couldn't sleep.

--- --- ---

The house was inky black at 5:30. Gavin sighed, fussing with his unruly blond hair before popping on his cap. He'd never get used to Winter! All three true farming seasons were so full of life, so full of hustle and bustle; Spring he planted, planted, planted, Summer he watered 'till he nearly keeled over, Autumn he harvested enough to feed a small army.

And then there was Winter. He took care of his animals. The end.

There was mining, of course. But with the amount of food required to make it to the bottom, Gavin could only go every few days; He had to save up the shiitake from his pallets and his eggs all year, plus the extra shiitake found in the autumn, in order to have enough steamed egg custards to eat in the mine. The egg custard was his favorite. Not to mention the fact that winter left him without fresh ingredients to bring to the Witch.

Gavin packed an egg custard, in case he should get hungry before he and Chelsea left for lunch at Luke's. He watered his pallets, watered his trees, and took care of his barn animals. "Oh, Gavin! Don't look so down!" Chelsea's cheery voice irked him more in his foul mood.

"Hey, Chelsea."

"Really! It's a beautiful day, Gavin. The snow just fell last night; your chickens have been behaving… Vaughn is off the island."

At least that much made Gavin laugh. "Maybe it is a better day than I thought. Tell you the truth, Chelsea, the only work I need you to do is care for the chickens. Not much to do, I'm afraid."

"Aren't you going mining later?"

"Oh, yeah. Denny explained how fish migrate from livin' grounds to breedin' grounds or whatever, and how fishin' in early winter makes right little sense. So he's comin', too." He followed along into the coop, gathering up the eggs while she fed and loved the chickens.

"Can't I come?"

"If you got the foodstuffs to last you through, sure."

Idly petting Parm, she asked him, "Then you gotta tell me how much! I don't go minin' often."

"A 'sperienced miner would need 'bout 25 full bar-replenishin' foods. An amateur miner should really take 35."

"I hope I got enough…"

"Chelsea, if it's gonna wipe out your food supply, don't do it. Y'got all winter to last, still."

"If I stick with herb soups and salads, I should be fine, Gavin. Don't go worryin' 'bout me!" She grinned sweetly at him, running off to prepare her meals.

He shouted after the red bandana'd girl, "Don't forget! We're meeting at the beach at high noon!" Trudging back through the snow, Gavin shook his head. _"Poor kid, she'll never make it. The trip'll be a bust and she'll feel like a loser. I just hope she doesn't clean her fridge out tryin' to tag along!"_

Gavin washed and dried all the teacups, letting the egg-mushroom mix settle as he cleared out his knapsack. _"No axe, no waterin' can, no sickle, no milker, no brush…" _Soon as the mix congealed right, he sealed the teacups and tossed 'em haphazardly into the knapsack. _"Aw, man! I'll have to run to the beach to make it on time…"_

"Sorry I'm late, Curly." Gavin dropped his pack, panting, leaning against the shack wall.

"No problem. I mean, hey, we're just going into the mines. What's the rush?"

"You know Chelsea, right?"

"Uh… the bandana chick?"

"That's her! She works for me and wanted to tag along."

Denny invited the blond inside his humble abode. The scent of fish was ripe and salty in the air, smoky, too. He was packing all kinds of fishy dishes, from Carpaccio to Sashimi. Keeping his thoughts to himself, Gavin grew worried. Hadn't he explained to Denny yesterday that they needed _full _bar replenishing dishes? Packing crap like sashimi, Denny would never make it!

He needed to have more faith in his friends. He believed himself a goner just the night before, when the Witch swooped down and saved him from Goddess only knows what. When Chelsea knocked on the shack's door, Gavin was off wondering what the Witch's name was.

The party traveled at easy pace through the snow, each elsewhere.

Chelsea couldn't help but think, _"Denny's a fisherman, so he's surely strong. But will he have the sense not to just shoot through pitfalls willy-nilly?"_

Denny eyed her from the side. _"I know this girl helps Gavin out, but there's no way she's got the stamina to go mining. She looks like three hours' fishin' in the sun would wear her out."_

Gavin traveled behind the party and sighed. _"They're both doomed." _

--- --- ---

Back on Gavin's ranch, the Witch popped inside his house with a cloud of black smoke. She carefully propped up the note on his pillow. Upon turning around, she noticed that his usually neat home was in a rather upsetting state of disarray; the sink and garbage were full of mushroom stems and egg shells, his floor littered with the contents of half his tool box. "This isn't like him in the least," she muttered to herself. She wiggled her fingers and the room was straightened.

"But he's left me quite a few useful clues. He couldn't have gotten so bored of my favorite season so quickly…?" Taking a tiny, round mirror from his pouch, the Witch gazed upon its surface. The mine and the three struggling friends were immediately revealed to her. "Damn it, Gavin! You brought other people with you. I can't-"

The Witch caught sight of the partially open refrigerator. "He owes me for last night's potions, anyway," She told herself. "This place is a potion-ingredient goldmine! These must be presents for me... moonstones, fish bones, grasses of every color! And even a red magic flower. Oh! If only it weren't Gavin's it would be mine."

Taking pinches of the elusive white grass and separating the delicate, papery skin from the grainy, inner goo, the Witch magicked a moonstone into silver powder with a single _zap!_ She packed the white and silver mix into an eggshell, resealing it with a spell. Her finger ignited into a little head of blue flame, over which she held the egg. In seconds the shell had turned black. "Perfect! My invisibility charm is complete!" The Witch snapped her fingers to make the black-egg charm hang from her neck.

Just as she had come, she disappeared.

--- --- ---

Gavin was sitting on a rock, his head in his hands. They had already used up a dozen breaks! They were only on the fiftieth level! Had Gavin been quicker to anger, he would've been pulling his bangs out hair by hair. He could hear Denny and Chelsea quietly bickering.

"The ladders are too slow," Denny argued. "If we don't take the pitfalls, we won't reach the bottom by sundown!"

Chelsea wagged her finger at him. "_You_ are too reckless! Pitfalls are faster, but you lack the judgment to decide which ones fall too far!"

"Oh! So it's not even the pitfalls, it's just me!"

"Pitfalls themselves are of a great help."

"Guys!" Gavin stood up, hammer over his shoulders. "I don't care how we get to the bottom, or who does what. So long as we get there period, I'm happy. It should work the same for you."

The witch appeared, unbeknownst to the three miners. _"They're really having trouble, I see. The two are fighting and my Gavin is stressed." _She peeked into their packs of food while they were occupied. _"My… they're half way through their food supplies already. Idiots. They'll never make it to the bottom at this rate!" _

The night before floated in her mind- saving, nursing, and making medicine. She had used her magic for good for the first time in a long while. Surely she could help them out, no?

The witch took a tiny, sandrose spoon from her pouch. Uttering a spell, the bowl of the spoon grew red hot, and she scooped a bit of the rock into it. She sprinkled the mine-soil on top. The three friends grew still, silent, and though she couldn't see the change, she knew they were for the moment blind and deaf.

"Okay, now I know you're all taken care of." The witch replaced the spoon with a notepad from her pouch. With a red-tipped feather, she wrote down a spell. "This may take all the energy I have; if I should collapse after doing this, this note will ignite and cast the spell for me. I've deposited a bit of magic in the paper to do so… the last thing I want is you three frozen, blind and deaf, until I wake up.

"Unfortunately, this place doesn't have enough ingredients." Upon zapping herself home, she immediately set her giant cauldron to work.

"_Purple grass, green grass, orange grass, red,_

_The bones of a fish, three years dead._

_Blue grass, yellow grass, black grass, white, _

_The wings of a bat, killed in dark of night._

_Four crushed toadstools and the grass indigo,_

_Pink diamond powder from floor two-five-oh._

_Three stand stranded fifty floors deep,_

_Waiting in mine own b'witching sleep._

_Grant these three passage to the mine's bottom,_

_Grant them every ore unintentionally forgotten,_

_Wonderfuls in hand, send them home safe for dreams to keep."_

The world flickered in and out. The Witch was aware of how fuzzy the boiling of her cauldron sounded, how cold the tips of her fingers were. Numbly, she tore the spell-paper from her pouch. Her knees were giving way. The paper slipped from her chilled fingers; as she hit the ground, little silver puffs of ash snowed upon her eyelashes.

--- --- ---

Gavin's eye cracked open, noting how dark it was outside. Oh, crap! Somebody tell him he hadn't collapsed in the mine!

Rushing out of bed, his foot caught on the strap of his knapsack and sent him flying. "Goddess-be-damned bag," he muttered. But when he reached to pull the knapsack towards him, it was too heavy. He peeked inside. On the top was the rest of his food, and just below lay the ores he remembered finding with Denny and Chelsea. But the whole bottom half of his bag! All of it! All of it full of Alexandrite, Mythic Stones, Pink Diamonds! And… and what was that so smooth, so pearly-round? Gavin pulled out a red wonderful and whistled.

In disbelief, Gavin walked slowly towards the cabinet with his wonderful. Hey, hadn't there been 20 moonstones in there before he left?

When he shut the cabinet's door, he saw a neatly folded piece of black paper on his pillow. "Say…" He picked it up, unfolded it, and began to read the violet ink.

_My pet,_

_I hope you have recovered well from yesterday's mishap. Beneath this note, I left you with a little bag of my special green-grass tea mix. Add boiling water if you feel nauseous or get a bad headache. _

_I really left this note to ask you if you would skip the Snow Festival on the fourth to enjoy a snowball fight with me. We can ice skate on the Harvest Goddess's pond, climb the mountain- rather, let's fly over the mountain! No offense, but climbing is so… mortal, you see. We can watch the winter sunset on the summit, and I can take you flying over the forest! Sounds like fun, no? _

_Come and see me tomorrow, the second, whether you are coming or not. _

_Yours mischievously,_

_The Witch Princess_

_P.S. If you don't come and see me, I'll come and find you. _

--- --- ---

1.22.09

I must thank everyone who took the time to read this! This was just a little fun chapter, especially after all the recent drama, but between the spell and letter it was a little joy to write. Hope it was as much fun to read!


End file.
